


Mission

by Numquam_satiabam



Series: I Promise [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Original Character Death(s), Sadness, i just dk, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7632172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Numquam_satiabam/pseuds/Numquam_satiabam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Look After You - The Fray</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mission

I cock my head, eyes traveling over him slowly, taking him in. I had no doubt this was the man from the photograph, the old worn, black and white photograph. He had the same eyes though they were much sadder now, confused looking. His hair was longer and I wondered if this was what she meant when she said he kept his hair longer before he enlisted and cut it short.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” I said slowly, eyes meeting his.

Bucky glanced at Steve and then back at me. His eyes narrowed warily. Steve gave a slow nod in my direction, indicating he should speak with me. I waited, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, lips quirked thoughtfully.

“Do I know you?” he asked slowly, voice gruff, eyes scanning over me, as if trying to remember.

“You don’t know me, no,” I answered, humming. 

He seemed to turn this over in his mind before glancing at Steve, taking in his silence and the way he kept his eyes on the ground.

“Do you know me?” he asked next, sounding even more confused, shifting on his feet. I’d seen that enough to know he was trying to assess the situation for danger. Did I have a vendetta? Did I hate him for something? Had he done something to me while he was the Soldier?

“I don’t know you personally,” I admitted, uncrossing my arms slowly and hooking my thumbs in the belt loops of my jeans. “But I know enough about you from my Gran.”

His brows furrowed. “Your Gran? Whose y-“ he stopped, head snapping up to mine, eyes quickly going to Steve’s who finally nodded. He looked back at me, lips parted.

“You’re her granddaughter?” he asked incredulously. 

I nodded, finally dropping my eyes from his, looking away for a moment.

“I am.”

…

Bucky sat on the bed, back against the wall as I lounged in the chair, feet propped up on my desk. He was going through her journal, that she’d written all her thoughts down into as her mind had started to go. The doctors thought it might help her with her memory. It didn’t.

“So she married,” he murmured. I didn’t answer, knowing he didn’t really need an answer. “Was she happy?”

I mulled over my answer before responding.

“She was content,” I said softly. “Mom never said anything about Gran being unhappy, but she was never really much of anything. She was pretty quiet. Gran.” I bounced a tennis ball against the wall of my room, catching and throwing it again. “She said she talked about you a lot as she started to go.”

Bucky ran his flesh hand over the page he was reading, careful to not move his metal hand too much.

“She’s….she’s gone…” he said slowly, as if trying to process it. 

“She died a few years ago,” I agreed. “She went peacefully, in her sleep. No pain. She was never really in pain.” 

I heard him swallow loudly. 

“That’s, that’s good, she deserved the peace,” he said quietly.

I glance over at him, eyes roving over him in thought.

“I’m glad she passed before Steve found you,” I said softly, continuing quickly before he got the wrong idea. “Seeing you like this, sad and lost, it would have torn her apart.”

“Did she ever forget about me?” he asked, sounding so sad I almost wanted to hug him but I knew that he was more likely to get up and leave if I touched him so I just let him be. 

I huffed a small laugh.

“Are you kidding? You’re the only one she could remember,” I murmured. “My mother was named after you. When she started to forget who everyone was….” I mulled over my thoughts before continuing. “I used to visit her in the home, I didn’t tell my mother because my mother wanted to forget about you and the whole you left in Gran’s life, but I went to visit her and she would talk to me, but not me.” 

I could feel him look at me, trying to decipher what I meant.

“I don’t follow,” he said quietly, turning away.

“She didn’t talk to me as her granddaughter but like I was her, she was talking to herself but waiting for me to answer. She couldn’t remember my name, she would call me hers. She thought she was talking to her reflection or her past self or I don’t know. But not me.”

“Why did you do it? Talk with her, when she didn’t know you?” Bucky asked, leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he looked at the floor.

“It was the least I could do for her, it seemed to give her some sense of peace, so I tried to pretend and let her believe in it,” I answered simply, thinking about all the one-sided conversations, confessions, I’d heard over the years.

Bucky was silent for a long time.

“You look a lot like her,” he said as he stood, walking towards the door.

“Mom always thought it was funny, how I looked so much like Gran, yet I’m not actually blood related to her. I’m adopted and I look the most like her,” I smiled to myself.

“Blood doesn’t make you family,” Bucky said gruffly, opening the door.

“Gran used to say that,” I murmured.

The door closed loudly behind him, leaving me alone in my thoughts, wondering if Gran was here, what she’d want me to do for her. What could I do for her?

…

I went and sat next to Bucky on the balcony, plopping down in one of the free chairs across the small metal table. 

“You walk really loud,” he mused, not glancing at me. 

“I want you to know I’m coming,” I replied casually, not sure if I imagined the small smile that curled on his lips. Steve always did the same thing around Bucky, not wanting to surprise him or accidentally startle him by sneaking up on him.

When I’d brought the idea up to Steve, when I was being flown to the secluded hideout Prince T’Challa had supplied for the Avengers, Steve had almost cried, saying he thought he was the only one worried about that kind of thing. I calmly reminded him I had two brothers with PTSD and was aware of the kind of damage a normal human could do with the adrenaline running through his veins.

As enthusiastic about dying as I was, dying at the hands of a panicked super soldier did not sound appealing. Steve didn’t think it was funny. I did.

I reached in the pocket of my sweatpants and pulled out the tiny box, setting on the table between us. I saw him glance at it before he went back to looking at the stars.

“How?”

“Steve told me about the loose floorboard in the kitchen,” I said softly. “I got it a few years ago.”

“Did she….did she ever know?” he asked quietly.

“No, I don’t think she did,” I answer honestly.

“How’d you get it? Out of the apartment, how’d you get in?”

“With the key?” I said jokingly. “Gran never sold it, it’s still there. A little dusty but still there.” I let that hang in the air for a few moments. “She would have wanted you to have it.”

He went quiet for a long time and after staring at the stars for an hour or so I headed back inside, leaving Bucky alone, the tiny box still on the table.

When I checked the balcony the next morning Bucky was gone, but the box was still there. I sighed and picked it up, flipping it open.

The engagement ring was gone.

…

I glanced up from my book when Bucky entered my room, not bothering to say hello before he took a seat at my desk. We stayed like that in silence for a while.

“Would you take me there? After…..” he trailed off, unsure of how to word it.

“When you wake up, I’d be happy to take you there,” I said softly. “It’s not a problem at all.”

“What if it’s years before it happens? I don’t want you to wait like she did,” Bucky said, dead serious.

“I’ll be here, James,” I say simply, not looking up from my book.

“You promise?” he asked quietly. He sounded so young and so vulnerable, I looked up and met his eyes, smiling softly, letting him know I was serious.

“I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

He searched my face for a moment before he nodded and stood, leaving my room, closing the door softly. 

…

I was the one on the balcony this time when he met me. I was laying on the ground, staring up at the stars, hands folded over my belly, laying peacefully. He sat down and laid beside me, awkwardly laying his arms to his sides, the metal scraping on the ground, making him wince.

I knew it was more from the sound, reminding him, which made me more sad than the thought of him maybe scraping his arm and wincing in discomfort.

We laid there for a moment in silence before he started speaking.

“Do you think she would be disappointed? Of everything that I’ve done?” 

“No, I think she would be very sad,” I said quietly, swallowing thickly.

“I killed so many people, I didn’t hesitate.”

“It wasn’t you. The Soldier is not you James.”

“But it is, I have so much blood on my hands,” he said, voice sounding choked. “I’m never going to be clean.”

I rolled onto my side to look at him, eyes trailing over his face. With his lip trembling and his eyes looking so lost, I could see what Gran meant when she said he had a face that could make you want to do anything he asked.

“James, look at me,” I said softly, waiting for him to turn his head and meet my eyes. “You’ve done bad things, when you weren’t yourself. You’ve done a lot of good things when you were. Everyone’s done bad things, but it’s what you’re doing right now that matters. You’re willing to go into cryo, just so you don’t hurt anyone again, you’re willing to spend your life sleeping, alone and cold, so you don’t hurt people. Tell me you’re a bad person. Tell me.”

He stayed quiet, eyes searching my face before he swallowed and gave a tiny nod. 

“My Gran, God rest her soul, would never want you to think you’re a bad person. She never considered you a bad person, even when you left. She always talked about how, you would always save the little guy, how you went up to her in the dance hall after seeing her alone and danced with her all night before you started going out. When she remembered that she didn’t have you, all she would say is, he’s off saving us, he’s keeping us safe.”

He broke eye contact, turning his head back to the stars. 

“Are you disappointed?” he asked, not looking over at me.

“No, you’re exactly like she said,” I murmured. “A little more sad. But I can see what she saw in you, you’re a good person. And that’s what matters to me.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

I reached down and squeezed his flesh hand lightly and went to let go.

He wouldn’t let me.

…

Bucky stood, waiting as T’Challa’s men prepared the cryo chamber, looking more relaxed than he had in days. At least since I’d met him. He smiled and made small talk with Steve as they prepped everything, shaking his head when Steve offered him an out. 

He glanced at me and then at Steve before looking at me again.

“That promise still good?” he asked nonchalantly, glancing at the cryo chamber. Steve looked at me confused.

“The promise is still good James,” I replied, smiling. 

The chamber was ready.

Steve clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a bro hug, murmuring something in his ear before letting go. Bucky walked past him towards the chamber, pausing when he reached me.

“I’m coming back, for real this time,” he said softly, eyes looking deep into mine. 

I smiled and gave him a nod.

“I know, I believe you,” I said quietly, giving his hand a squeeze before he stepped in and laid back, closing his eyes. As the glass frosted over and cold air billowed upwards, we watched him freeze, my smile falling once it was done.

“You did a good job,” Steve said, hand on my shoulder.

“It wasn’t a job Rogers. Just because I’m an agent doesn’t mean everything I do is a mission.”


End file.
